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July 29, 2005

Oh, sorry, were you all looking for me? I was busy trying to pick out cowboy boots. Ha, wishful thinking, sorry darlings. Just work stuff coupled with the work involved with having friends and family and I am plum tapped out by day's end.

Quick: I am annoyed by the Macy's buyout of Filene's...not because I don't love you, Macy's, but because your anchor store at Crossgates Mall sucks ass! Also, hideous, awful and ultimately heartbreaking is how I will describe any Steelers season without Hines Ward. Someone needs to pony up some cash. (Tom DeLay, it's time to finally prove your worth.)

In brief knitting news, and let me just apologize for this entire post right now because I am fully aware that it lacks the sass I usually try and brew up around these parts, I have a crazy bright green cardigan almost done except for 1/2 the button bands and a baby blanket that needs to grow overnight because that darned baby was born on Wednesday!

July 26, 2005

Not much time, but I have to say, watching "The Daily Show" last night, I was really surprised to hear that Rick Santorum did not agree with segregation! I wonder if he will lose points from his base on that one...

July 22, 2005

Body parts on to which I have recently, against all odds, received bug bites:

each of my middle toes

right elbow

rib cage area, directly underneath my left breast

left earlobe

nape of my neck (under about 7 lbs. of my long hair!)

inner upper thigh -- 2 on the left one, 1 on the right

What's especially odd is, how is it that I can get all these insects swarming me -- without noticing and underneath my clothes, no less! -- in the 25 minutes or so that I venture outside each day to smoke?

New rule: none of my best friends are ever allowed to travel to anyplace again without me tagging along. Good fuck, Rye, if you're reading this, I spent yesterday looking up consulate contacts and researching meningitis symptoms. I need you to come home now, dear -- TJ and I have a tentative "hole up in a hotel room in Manhattan with a case of champagne and all the prank phone calls and room service and MTV your little heart desires" plan to tempt you back!

(She's fine, though, kids -- I got a 3am-ish phone call with the news, which is why I can afford to joke. Uhm, the champagne hotel plan was not a joke, though. In fact, if Rye doesn't want to come with me, I welcome other takers on what I consider the best plan I've come up with for some time.)

July 20, 2005

Oooh, look, Pittsburgh reads! I, for one, love the look of the new convention center, so I can only imagine how punk rock this looks! (I couldn't find photos on the web, partially due to the half-assedness of my search, so if anyone has some, link 'em up in the comments section below.)

My day? Is not going awesomely. Just imagine like I bitched about the Supreme Court nom, would you? Because I just don't have any energy for it right now. Be sure that you go get yourself an abortion while they last, ladies! I plan on getting two, you know, just to stock up. Rant, rant, blah, blah.

I guess I should really start turning to the Sunday Style section first, eh? Another sissy-fight unfolds: dreary, bitter fortysomething vs. nanny! I don't really get why Ms. Dreary Bitter finds the sex life of her nanny cause for possible termination. Probably the "dreary, bitter" thing has something to do with it? I could not agree more with the sentiment of Ms. Nanny when she remarks:

I think one of the most disappointing things about this essay is the way it suggests that a woman who thinks about sex, writes about it, has it, chooses an academic career that asks questions about its societal relevance (my blog clearly states that my intellectual interests have to do with the intersection of sex and violence in the Victorian novel) are not fit to care for children. Ridiculous. I think most women have a lot to say about sex. And I choose to say it.

Indeed! And really, several of my friends have had truly nightmarish nanny experiences, but not a one of them has chastised their nanny for having a life off the job and daring to talk about it. (Much less chastised her in the goddamned NYT!) I wonder, though, if Ms. Fortysomething could impose a virginity test upon any future nannies?

July 15, 2005

And now for a little tune I like to call, "Why Democrats Always Lose"!

Hey, liberal-types, after reading this article on the Casey/Santorum cage match -- err, Senate race -- I have become concerned. See, liberals-types, we're of the same tribe here. I've been called an extraordinarily well-dressed communist in the course of arguments, and for a while there in college, I think I was the only person in western PA with a Z Magazine subscription. As adults, we drink lattes at the same Starbucks and shop at the same imported car dealerships, you know? So I hope you'll forgive me when I address you familiarly, it's just that I think I know what I'm talking about here.

Someone who is like us? Is not going to beat Santorum.

Now, you want to beat Santorum, don't you? I mean, the guy's batshit crazy -- he compares abortion to slavery, he snuggled with the corpse of his stillborn child, he thought Terri Schiavo was martyred. He's crazy. He's also a human embodiment of all that is wrong with the radical right, from their woman-hating to their terrible haircuts. And, worst of all, he's powerful. He has a big voice in this country, when he talks crazy, people hear his crazy from California to Maine. Bitch. Is. Crazy.

But, on the bright side, he's vulnerable. He's further to the right than almost all of Pennsylvania -- well, at least the parts that believe in combustible engines. (Presumably the Amish still have him beat. But to their credit, the Amish make much nicer quilts than Santorum does.)

Part of the great joy and great frustration of being a Democrat is how totally noncohesive the party is. I mean, fuck, we all care about such different things and there is no dominant national "type." I, for one, find the DLC totally annoying and think the Clintons are far too conservative. I'm, like, the crazy liberal that practically wants "Free abortion!" coupons handed out at junior high school dances! But you know what? I am going to write a check to Bob Casey's campaign.

Because we need to learn, sooner or later, than no one person is more important than the Mission. The Mission is to defeat the crazed ideology of the radical right, and getting rid of Santorum is vital to that at this moment in time. Bob Casey's name is known -- he's the son of a well-known ex-Governor and he holds positions that cross the red/blue divide, which is important to success in a statewide PA race.

Do I wish Casey agreed with me on more stuff? Yes. But is getting him elected vital? Abso-fucking-lutely. But unfortunately, there is no time for pure ideology anymore -- perhaps you've noticed that our country's running in a very disturbing direction?

Write a check or do whatever you can to get his campaign off the ground instead of bitching about how it would be so much better if Jesus H. Liberal were in the race. Let's face it, Jesus H. Liberal can't win, but Bob Casey, Jr., can.

Requisite Friday Fluff: take sides: boy vs. girl! (Is my bias obvious?) Additionally, I think the mention of the squirrel scene sews up what film I will be seeing this weekend.

ExcellentErin Meme: what I do when no one is looking, in a list of five.

1) Examine my pores.

2) Dance -- I am quite a bad dancer, honestly, and I do apologize if I have led anyone to believe otherwise. I never dance while sober if anyone is around. And when I remember dancing drunkenly the next day, it is always with a mixture of queasy mortification and admiration at my own lack of self-awareness under the influence of vodka and Destiny's Child on the jukebox.

3) Obsessively google random words strung together that I happen to like.

4) Read lowbrow celebrity biographies.

5) Watch infomercials. I have been caught by Mr. Pink many, many times watching the Magic Bullet informercial, transfixed by the weird not-old-but-dressed-as-old lady on it in particular. (Why did they not just get an older actress?) Oh, and the alcoholic guy, what is the deal with him? Margaritas for breakfast?!?